


take a sad song (and make it better)

by Owlwithafringe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actor!Balthazar, Alcohol, Angst, Art, Artist!Dean, Cafe Owner!Gabriel, Café, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Multi, Mutual Pining, Surprise Party, Temporary Dean/Balthazar, Writer!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4154256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlwithafringe/pseuds/Owlwithafringe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Balthazar, notorious man-whore thinks he's in love with a green eyed artist. Castiel, his best friend and well-to-do author with a bad case of writer's block hates Balthazar's new boyfriend. Because he's in love with him too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aprettygirlandpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprettygirlandpie/gifts).



> For _aprettygirlandpie_ who prompted 'falling in love with your best friend's partner'. I'd like to thank her for her help and her egging me on, and also for replying to my plea for a prompt. I hope you like the fic. :)

Despite what most people assume about Castiel, he’s not in actual fact a saint or an angel. Just because he’s quiet and doesn’t feel the need to make a large number of ‘friends’ or go out partying every weekend does not mean he’s anything more than a flawed human being.

He has faults. Sometimes he doesn’t return his library books on time. More often than not he ties his tie the wrong way. His hair is always a perpetual mess resembling something closer to a birds nest than an actual head of hair. Sometimes he got so caught up doing something that he’d just forget to eat. _Human._

However, just because he isn’t _actually_ a saint, it’s not to say he isn’t pretty damn close to one. For starters, he’d have to be pretty close to one to put up with his roommate Balthazar, who’s also the man he considered to be his closest and oldest friend.

It had made sense for them to go to the same university, Castiel to study English literature and Balthazar to do acting, and after graduation to share the same apartment. But things changed, as they always did. Balthazar grew a hard shell of sarcasm and recklessness, and Castiel became even more secluded than he already was. Castiel recognised Balthazar’s coping mechanism for what it was, but it still hurt him to see his best friend so blasé and resentful about the world.

Living with this new Balthazar required patience. A lot of it. It meant having to rub his back whilst he was throwing up in their toilet after drinking too much. It meant getting used to everything smelling like cigarette smoke because Balthazar still smoked in the apartment even though Castiel had asked many times already not to. It meant getting use to finding strangers in his kitchen, male or female, that Balthazar had brought home, only to discard less than a week later.

But there were those odd nights when they’d curl up on the same bed like they were little kids and watch bad films on Netflix or when Balthazar was home before he was and he’d cook them dinner and ask him how his day was and it reminded Castiel that his friend was still there, that underneath all that bullshit that the friend he’d grown up with still loved him in his own strange way, and it made it all worth it.

Breakfast time was sacred in the Novak-Milton household. It was the one meal that they had silently agreed to always be at though they rarely actually ate anything. It usually consisted of litres of steaming hot coffee and blurry eyes, until they’d woken up enough to get past grunting at each other and actually hold some semblance of conversation. 

Balthazar’s romantic conquests were ejected from the house before breakfast. Castiel felt like he should have more sympathy towards them and their hasty departures but he felt worse about the fact that he didn’t feel bad than he did about the actual encounter. Breakfast time was Cas-and-Balth time as it was generally the only time they were guaranteed together with both of them working in the day and Balthazar usually disappearing during the night.

Castiel was pouring himself a second mug of coffee, letting the rich aroma filter through his nose and kick start the mechanical cogs of his brain. The mug had an image of bees on it and had been a gift from his brother Gabriel many years ago. Absently he noted the grey cracks in the porcelain and the fading pattern, from years of use and washing up. One day the image would be gone and then he’d have to replace the mug. Castiel frowned. It was his favourite mug. Ok, perhaps he needed another caffeine injection. 

Balthazar was sitting topless across the table from him, wearing only his sleeping pants. He was smoking a cigarette and sipping from a cup of Earl Grey tea, something he thought made him more sophisticated when in actual fact is just made him seem adorably pretentious in the same way a thirteen year old girl thinks she’s a grown up because wears make up that looks like it’s been painted on by a clown.

They had been sitting in a relatively comfortable silence, Castiel almost finished with his second cup when Balthazar spoke, the tones of his faux English accent interrupting Castiel’s mug-related thoughts.

“I’ve met someone Cassie.”

Castiel snorted before smiling mildly and taking another sip of his coffee. “You meet someone every night Balthazar.”

Balthazar shook his head in disagreement. “This one’s different. He’s coming around at midday and he’s taking me out for lunch.” He exhaled gently, tendrils of spoke released from his lips and danced their way up towards the ceiling. He only smoked in front of Castiel in the mornings because he knew he was too groggy to protest otherwise.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, lowering his mug down to the table and replied simply, “Oh?” Balthazar did not do dates. Ever. Unless hooking up at a bar counted as a date and even as unproficient as Castiel was in such matters, even he didn’t think that even Balthazar counted _that_ as a date.

Balthazar gazed dreamily at Castiel, an expression on his face that Castiel had not seen since they were teenagers: the face of someone who was besotted. “He’s got these amazing eyes Cassie, and he’s a painter so we’re both starving for our arts. And we’ll both die tragically young and beautiful.”

“And you haven’t..” Castiel let the question linger, unable to bring himself to actually say the words.

“Screwed him?” Balthazar chuckled as a hot flush rised on Castiel’s cheeks. “No, and that’s the best part. He’s treating me like a real lady. And everyone knows a proper lady doesn’t put out until at least the third date.”

“Balthazar, I’d be surprised if you knew anything about being a proper lady.”

“Why Castiel,” Balthazar gasped dramatically in a put on southern drawl, a delicate hand fluttering to his chest, “Are you implying that I am easy?” At least Balthazar was putting his acting degree to good use, but Castiel knew how to read Balthazar better than one of his books.

“You really like him, don’t you.” It was less of a question and more saying a fact. Balthazar shrugged nonchalantly as if it were no big deal, but the lines of his body were tense and his eyes held a glimmer of wistfulness. He sighed, before draining the last of his tea and stubbing out his cigarette.

He stood up and Castiel didn’t need to be looking to feel the armour fall back into place. “Now Cassie darling, as lovely as this has been, I have a date to get ready for.”

Balthazar paused at the doorway of the kitchen on his way out before turning and speaking so softly that Castiel had to strain his ears to hear him. “I think I do Cas. Like him.”

Castiel wanted to ask what was so different about this man, what was so special that he was able to change habits of a life time. That he was able to make _Balthazar_ of all people fawn over him like a school girl crush. 

He stayed silent and drank the rest of his coffee.

 

*****

 

Castiel left the kitchen in time to hear Balthazar turn the shower on, diminishing any plans Castiel had on showering before he started work, writing his new book. Balthazar was one of those people who literally showered for an hour and used up all the hot water. Also known as the worst types of people.

The door to his room snicked shut quietly behind him. He didn’t have a huge need to shower anyway. He’d showered yesterday and he wasn’t exactly planning on going anywhere today, so ‘hobo mode’ it was.

‘Hobo mode’ was something Balthazar had affectionately nicknamed the times when Castiel didn’t shave or wash and dressed like a tramp for extended periods of time. It was a habit that developed in college when Castiel was focused on an assignment to the point where he’d wear the same old t-shirt and comfy pants for days and ended up with serious peach fuzz scruff. 

It was something that followed him after college, and into his writing career. His novel had flown out through his fingers and spun into a story quickly without Castiel having much control over it meaning he spent many sleepless nights in front of his computer.

He changed out of his pyjamas and into his old threadbare ACDC shirt and some black sweatpants. ACDC wasn’t particularly a band he listened to a lot but he did enjoy a few of their songs. The origins of the t-shirt were long forgotten but it was likely a hand-me-down from one of his older brothers, due to the fact he was the youngest it was something he had quite a lot of.

Castiel sat down in front of his laptop and pulled up the empty word document that had been mocking him for weeks, and poised his fingers over the keyboard ready to type but nothing happened. Despite his first book being as easy to write as it was as natural to breath, the second book was not coming so easily even with the success of the last one which as result earned him a book deal to make it a trilogy. 

Perhaps that is what his problem was. It had all been set in stone and people were relying on him, having expectations for him to fulfil. It completely halted his creative process. What if people didn’t like it? What is he let his publishers down? What if he didn’t get it right?

It had been this way for nearly two months now, which was two months too long. His agent was starting to press him for deadlines and word counts and Castiel had no idea how to tell her that seemed to have a semi-permanent brain freeze. 

Despite Castiel’s own personal acknowledgment of all the thought flow problems, it didn’t stop him staring at his computer for the following two hours. Actually it would be more accurate to say that he spent the next two hours typing a paragraph and then backspacing the whole thing a few minutes later.

The whole situation was frustrating and stressful and probably wasn’t helping Castiel in the slightest which is why he finally decided to take a break to stretch his legs and perhaps grab some lunch. Castiel was in the mood for burgers.

Castiel was part way through a stretch, the kind that made your back crack in several different places when he turned into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks. 

Because standing in the kitchen, leaning up against the countertop sides was the most beautiful man that Castiel had ever seen.

Castiel wasn’t usually the type to ever particularly to ever care about his appearance but he’d never been so highly aware of his bed hair and red rimmed eyes before, and all he wanted to do was scurry back to his room and brush his teeth.

Standing next to this man though would make anyone self-conscious. Tall, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans with a crooked smile. Balthazar was right: he really did have the most amazing eyes. Emerald green irises framed by ridiculously long eyelashes and Castiel could already tell this man’s expression would always be able to be read through his eyes. Castiel was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to start writing lyrical poetry about the man’s eyes and Castiel hated poetry. 

Castiel realised he had been gawking dumbly at the man, who had apparently been talking to him whilst he’d spaced out. The man’s hand was in front of him like he was waiting for Castiel to shake it, but all he could do was concentrate on the flecks of paint that were caught underneath his nails.

“Huh?” Castiel internally cringed. His trade was literally words, and yet he couldn’t manage to string a coherent sentence together? Maybe sitting in front of a computer for significant stretches of time was having more of an effect than Castiel originally realised.

The man smiled, luckily not minding he had to repeat himself. He was either extremely patient or had concluded to himself that Castiel was a bit slow. “I said you must be Balthazar’s roommate.” His voice was deep, though not as deep as Castiel’s own, but it held a twinge of an accent. Possibly Texas or Kansas though Castiel wasn’t familiar enough with the region to identify which. “I’m Dean.”

Castiel finally moved to grasp Dean’s hand to shake. Dean’s hand was warm and had rough calluses from years of use. He marvelled at the firm grip that Dean had before realising his own hands were disgustingly clammy and dropped Dean’s hand somewhat awkwardly. “I’m Castiel.” 

Dean nodded and Castiel waited for the inevitable joke about his unusual name. That was something Castiel and Balthazar had in common: their parents must have hated them. Dean nodded and looked politely interested. “Castiel? Can’t say I’ve ever met a Castiel before.”

Castiel inclined his head at the admission. He hadn’t either. “I was named after an Angel. My parents are religious, as you probably gathered.”

Dean looked like he was about to say something more when Balthazar stepped into the room, hair still slightly damp from his shower and dressed impeccable as usual with his grey v-neck and a blazer. “Ah fantastic, you two have met.” He turned to address Castiel. “We’re going out to lunch, text me if you need me darling, and remember to eat something for the love of god before you pass out in front of your computer.”

He grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him towards the door, muttering something about being late for their reservation. Dean turned and grinned at Castiel just before he was hauled out the door.

“It was nice meeting you Cas.” 

He was left alone in the kitchen as the front door banged shut feeling vaguely shell shocked. 

_Cas._

He’d called him Cas. Castiel had never been given a nickname before other than Cassie, something that originally his brother called him before Balthazar adopted it. 

The man, Dean, seemed nice and yes he was attractive. He could see why Balthazar liked him. But that still didn’t stop Castiel from feeling slightly irritated by him though he had no rational reason to feel that way. Maybe he was just hungry. Castiel nodded to himself. Yes, that must be it. There was no other explanation for. Satisfied that this was the reason, he set about to make himself lunch and soon forgot about Balthazar and his date, settling back down to glaring at his computer screen after finishing.


	2. Chapter 2

Balthazar returned that evening, practically buzzing with excitement. He kept talking about how amazing lunch was (apparently they’d gone to this sushi place a few blocks away) and how fantastic the food was, and how great the conversation was and how romantic it all was, and the best part was Balthazar had had no desire to dine, screw and dump him. About how he was turning over a new leaf or starting a new chapter in his life or whatever it was Balthazar said he did slightly differed from his normal routine. 

All this talk of how _perfect_ Dean was only fuelled the irritation that Castiel had felt about him yesterday, increasing it to the point where Cas felt like he could safely say he hated Dean Winchester with his perfect hair and perfect face and apparently perfect personality. Nobody was that perfect. Not even Helen of Troy, literally the most perfect and beautiful women that ever existed was as perfect as Dean Winchester, or at least according to Balthazar. 

Castiel tried to be happy for his friend, really he did. Lord only knows Balthazar needed to find someone who he was actually considering to have a proper grown up relationship with and not a quick fuck. He needed someone to have a serious, emotional bond with as most of his other relationships with other people are what would be considered as ‘unhealthy’ and he didn’t really have anyone else other than Castiel.

That being said, Castiel didn’t exactly have many other friends either. He wasn’t ever really a popular. He had always much preferred book characters over real people. They were less complicated. They never let you down either. That mixed with his infamous social awkwardness, he found it hard to make friends who didn’t think he was weird. 

Castiel did have some people outside of Balthazar though. Perhaps not many, but enough that he was content with his small social group. 

He had his brother, Gabriel, the only family Castiel was actually in contact with. When Castiel moved away for college, Gabriel followed him not long after. He set up his own Café and become one of the most successful small business owners in the area. Castiel had been extremely thankful, if not a little guilty, when Gabriel followed him. He loved his brother dearly, but when Castiel left he had no intention of ever contacting his family ever again. 

Meg worked as a waitress and barista at Gabriel’s café. Castiel didn’t really understand Meg. She was forever dropping references that he never understood and continuously called him Clarence even though she knew it wasn’t his name but she always threatened to punch anyone in the nose who would ever give Castiel a hard time and whilst he didn’t approve of the violence, he very much appreciated the sentiment. She was loyal and never pushed Castiel for more and was always a grateful distraction whenever he needed a break from writing, though this was an occurrence that was a lot less common in recent days due to his writers block.

It was quite a neat and tidy arrangement, created from pure coincidence that the only two people he had contact with outwith Balthazar worked under one roof, the same roof that Castiel took refuge in whenever he needed peace. Something Castiel definitely needed the next morning after Balthazar’s date when he still hadn’t finished gushing about Dean.

Enough was enough, and if Balthazar didn’t want Castiel to claw Dean’s face off the next time he saw him then he needed to get out of the house before he threw the remaining coffee in his mug at Balthazar. It was too early in the morning to deal with this, and it just made him feel like his skin was crawling with this unidentifiable feeling that was somewhere between outright and anger and irritation. 

Castiel hastily excused himself from breakfast after he drained the last of his coffee and went to take a shower. He spent ten minutes in the shower, washing his hair and cleaning himself, barely being in there long enough for the mirrors to steam up because that is how long proper people spend in showers, despite what his friend thought, before going to his room clad only in a towel to get dressed.

He dried himself off quickly and decided on wearing some dark jeans and a button up white shirt, a more casual and ‘socially acceptable’ version of the suit he liked wearing most. However, he refused to compromise on his trench coat. _That_ he would keep. 

Castiel carelessly towled his hair, getting rid of the worst of the wetness from it but left it at that. Nothing would fix it, not even combing it whilst it was wet. Relatively happy with his reflection Castiel pulled on his coat and pocketed his cell phone and keys before rushing out of the front door with barely a shout of goodbye at Balthazar.

 

*****

 

It wasn’t until Castiel arrived at Gabriel’s café, ready to eat some of Gabriel’s homemade pastries and complain about Dean and his book and Balthazar until his heart was content, that he remembered what day it was. Faced with the glass door with the sign _’Closed’_ hanging from it he remembered Gabriel’s philosophy of no working on a Sunday. In all fairness to Castiel though, he hadn’t even realised that it was already Sunday, having lost track of the date days ago.

He could turn back, but it seemed a waste to have come this far and not do something. But it didn’t solve his problem, what to do next. Castiel didn’t want to go to any other coffee shops. Not only did it feel like he was being disloyal to his brother but they were all too shiny and loud and branded, the sort of thing Castiel couldn’t stand.

Plan B it was: the park a few blocks away, perhaps a ten minute walk. When Castiel had been writing his first book, he’d liked going to write there on nice days. Half the reason was because it was literally the only time he spent outdoors and Gabriel threatened to lock him out of his own apartment (to which Castiel was confused as to how Gabriel had managed to procure keys for it) if he didn’t get some fresh air on a regular basis. Apparently opening a window didn’t count as fresh air. The other half though was because he liked it, much to his own surprise at the time.

All sorts of people came through the park. Little children running through the grass playing knights and dragons. Couples walking hand in hand on first dates. Old couples, probably on their hundredth date. Dog owners trying to keep up with their overexcited puppy. All the while Castiel was happy to sit and watch them go about their business, blended into the landscape. 

Each individual inspired him. They all had a life, a story to tell, each one unique to the other. A series of choices and coincidences and perhaps fate or destiny if you believed in that sort of thing, that brought them to that exact park, at that exact time for Castiel to watch them as he wrote that novel, to remind him how people were, how they acted, how _real_ they are, because it was easy to forget when you were shut alone in a room all by yourself.

When he reached the park it was empty, not a particularly significant thing to note but Castiel wasn’t sure if he was pleased with that or not. He liked the park because it had people, but without them it meant he could sit undisturbed and think. 

Castiel quickly scouted his usual hide away: a park bench placed near the centre of the park, shadowed by a cluster of trees. From that point you could see just about everything going on, from the entrance to the ducks in the pond.

As he sat on that park bench he resolved to at least pretend to like Dean, if not for his sanity rather than anything else. If he stuck around which Castiel highly doubted, despite it being an unusually cynical thought for him, he’d try and get to know the man but until Dean decided to walk or before Balthazar got bored of him and moved onto the next catch of the week, then Castiel couldn’t see the harm in at least _trying_ with him.

 

*****

 

Castiel opened the apartment to Dean’s smiling face, his own laced heavily with a frown. He opened the door wide enough to allow Dean entrance before closing it and going back to the kitchen, all the while wondering if this was going to become a recurring habit: Dean and Castiel standing awkwardly together, waiting for Balthazar. He hoped not. He knew he could just easily leave Dean to it, but his good breeding won out against his discomfort, and he couldn’t leave a guest in his house by themselves. 

“Where are you taking Balthazar?” Castiel offered, breaking the silence.

Dean smiled genuinely, “I’m taking him to an art exhibition that just opened. Balthazar actually suggested it.”

“Oh?” Balthazar hated art. But he did like artists. Either he was extremely desperate and his plan was to take advantage of the free champagne and then have semi-public sex with Dean in the bathrooms, or he was being truthful when he said he liked Dean, apparently enough to spend a whole evening surrounded by hipsters and lonely, middle aged, broke artists. Or even worse, lonely, middle aged, broke hipsters.

“Yeah. But I know the dude who organised it so I managed to get a couple of tickets since he owed me a favour.”

“The perks of knowing people in high places.” Castiel retorted, somewhat ironically, not that Dean seemed to notice.

Luckily, Castiel was saved by the bell, from having to hear Dean’s response. Or rather, saved by Balthazar’s well timed appearance. Balthazar, whilst looking smartly dressed for going out, looked harried, immediately alerting Castiel that something was going on.

“Sorry darling but I have to cancel. I have to go and bail Luci out of jail. Again. Why don’t you take Cassie though? I’m sure he’d love to go.” Without waiting for answer Balthazar spoke again, “Great, then it’s settled. You two crazy kids go and have a good time. Got to dash, see you later!”

The door closed with a loud creak, making the silence echo around the apartment and leaving the two men aware of the thick air of discomfort between the two of them.

“I could have bailed him out.” Castiel pointed out weakly, a protest that fell on deaf ears. Dean shuffled his feet, the boots scuffing the wooden floor. There was a twinge of disappointment marring his face but he met Castiel’s eyes straight on with an awkward, and if Cas didn’t know any better, a shy smile. 

“Listen man, you don’t have to come. That is if you don’t want to. Not that I don’t want you to come, but I’m sure you’ve got better things to do or you feel obligated to or-“

“Dean, it’s fine.” Castiel interrupted gruffly, repressing a sigh. A whole evening was going to be wasted now, which could have been spent for writing. Instead he was going to be surrounded by pretentious hipsters and art students who had had a little too much to drink. Or if Castiel remembered his college years correctly, when concerning art students, perhaps a little too much to _smoke_. Balthazar as lucky to get out of that one. Despite the squandered evening, Dean looked just a little too much like a kicked puppy for Castiel just to no outright. “Just let me get my coat.”

The way Dean’s eyes lit up, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a long storm, made the whole ordeal almost worthwhile, even if it was only because Dean had smiled like that.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel had heard so much about Dean’s car from Balthazar that he was half disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see it when Dean told them they were walking to the gallery. Like with most things though, he shrugged it off quickly and began to walk briskly into the chilled streets.

The street lamps twinkled over head; a man made version of the stars lighting up their path. The city was strangely silent only the faint sound of car horns and engines being heard in the distance. Normally this kind of night would captivate Castiel with the way the cool air captured his breath but he was too perturbed about his stolen evening to truly appreciate it.

Dean was silent as they walked thankfully, only the scuffing of his shoes against the ground and the light breathing next to him and Castiel thanked a God he no longer believed in for it. A couple times Dean opened his mouth as if to make conversation but closed it again, thinking better of it. Castiel hated small talk, and quite frankly he wasn’t sure he could participate in it in that moment without snapping at Dean.

Castiel realised a few moments before Dean said anything that they had arrived at their intended destination down to the fact it was busiest place he had seen the entire way over. Cars were parked all down the road, most of them probably illegally – that’d be the college students no doubt – and women in dresses and men in blazers and insufferable hipster glasses milled around with flutes of champagne in their hands, trying to look like they belonged there.

In actual fact they probably did belong there more than Castiel, many of them probably artists or art dealers whilst Castiel himself only had a passing interest in the subject and little knowledge about it, making him deeply aware of how much he felt like a jigsaw piece that had been put in the wrong puzzle.

Together Dean and Castiel passed art gallery entrance, Dean immediately perking up at the sight of his ‘people’. Most of the people they walked passed gave a nod or wave or smile in Dean’s direction, clearly knowing who he was. They had barely even stepped through the door and Dean was happier than Castiel had seen him all evening. His posture had straightened and his eyes took on an ethereal quality, his whole being positively radiating with contentment as he acknowledged them all in return. 

The gallery itself wasn’t what Castiel had been expecting at all. Instead of harsh white walls and bright lights with large glass windows screaming ‘modern’ there were subtle greys painting the walls and dark mahogany flooring making the room feel warm and elegant. Paintings lined the walls inconspicuously being lit by a light hanging above on the wall. It gave the place a very classical twist without being overambitious and Castiel found himself liking it immensely much to his own surprise. 

They came to a stop in the centre of the first display room, Castiel feeling vaguely like a fish out of water and not really knowing what to do next. Did they split up and look around? Should he go and stand somewhere out the way and hope he melts into the walls?

Dean acknowledged Castiel for the first time since they’d left his apartment either sensing Castiel’s discomfort or because he was a mind reader. The latter was entirely feasible in Castiel’s defence: he was a writer. He had an overactive imagination. 

“Do you know much about art Cas?” He asked directing the full force of his attention onto Castiel. 

Castiel shook his head mutely in response, half expecting a disappointed look in return. Instead Dean smiled widely like it was the best news he’d heard all day. 

“Awesome. It means you won’t know anything about bullshit art politics. You’re a clean canvas to work on.”

Castiel wanted to inquire about the art metaphor being used on him but he found himself too confused about the previous statement not to ask about it. “Art politics? Art has politics?”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t everything? What’s controversial, what’s popular, what’s not, who’s making the most money? I try and not let my opinion get clouded by all that but it’s hard when you’re surrounded by it all the time, yannoe? But you? You can just appreciate the art for what it is, in its purest form. And that’s pretty special man.”

Castiel took a moment to mull over Dean’s words. He supposed there was a truth there – he saw it in his own industry. People pushing out words long after they had exhausted their stories, all in the name of fame and money. It made a mockery of those doing it with the truest intentions. Castiel was lucky that he so removed from that sort of thing. He didn’t do book tours or interviews. He just wrote and sent the finished thing to his agent. 

Castiel inclined his head to show he understood. Dean smiled at him again and began to edge away from him. “Come on. Let me show you everything. I promise I’ll try and make it fun.”

Castiel rolled his eyes but followed Dean towards the first painting. It looked like a blank canvas with white paint on it. Sort of pointless really. Dean didn’t seem to think so. Castiel watched Dean explained the painting to him, not really listening to anything he was saying. It must have shown on his face though because Dean grimaced.

“Not a fan of the abstract then?”

“Balthazar often tells me to stop being so literal. I find myself inclined more towards realistic portraits and landscapes.” 

Dean nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, you might find some of those in here. There’ll be a lot of things like this though. Just a warning. Are you sure you don’t just want to go home?”

“I said I’d do this, so I am. Show me the next painting.”

Dean chuckled but moved onto the next the painting. In truth Castiel didn’t really care for each painting that Dean showed him. Dean didn’t seem to notice though because with each painting he grew more animated, hands flying and eyes glistening with fervour. He was truly element here, that was clear, and his love for was evident. The passion Dean had was almost catching and Castiel had a niggling want to write down what he was seeing, to try and put that passion into words.

Some time into the night a women approached them. She had her brown hair in a bun and wore a smart black dress. Castiel dismissed her as being a college student. She was dressed too professionally for that.

She greeted Dean with a hug and a kiss on the cheek obviously familiar with him. She greeted Castiel with a smile and a nod. Castiel liked her. She had a kind face. 

“Castiel, this is Sarah. She’s my brother’s better half.” Dean introduced her. “She’s an art dealer. It’s actually how they met: through me. Sarah, this is Castiel. He’s a writer and Balthazar’s roommate.”

Sarah offered a hand which Castiel accepted and shook. “Castiel. I bet there aren’t many writers around with that name. You don’t happen to be Castiel Novak do you? Who wrote that angel book?”

“The very same.” Castiel reluctantly agreed.

“Wow! Sam loves your book. I haven’t read it but I probably know the plot better than most people who have.” Sarah smiled. It put him at ease that she hadn’t read his book. He wouldn’t have quite known what to do if she’d been a fan.

Dean made a thoughtful noise. “Oh yeah. He’s always going on about it. My little brother’s a nerd in case you hadn’t realised.”

Castiel nodded but didn’t contribute further to the conversation, feeling completely out of his depth. As long as they didn’t ask about the sequel, everything would be fine. Luckily the conversation didn’t become awkward though because Dean and Sarah took over it, speaking to each other. Castiel let the lull of their voices calm him as he glanced around the gallery.

He wasn’t sure how long they had been talking for but Dean’s sudden exclamation broke Castiel out of his daydream.

“Shit! Is that the time? I gotta head off soon, I have a breakfast with dearest Samantha at ass’o’clock.” He turned to Castiel, “Is it cool if we head off now?”

“Of course.”

“Awesome.” He turned back to Sarah and pulled her into a firm hug, “I’ll see you later.”

Castiel could see Sarah roll her eyes but smile and hug back nonetheless. “Yeah, yeah. Sap.”

Dean and Sarah released each other and Sarah grinned at Castiel. “It was a pleasure to meet you Castiel.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” Castiel replied, finding to his surprise that he genuinely meant it. There was something about her that put him right at ease. 

Dean exchanged goodbyes with a few people on the way out but soon enough they escaped the gallery and were out into the night air again. Castiel took a refreshing gulp of it. He hadn’t realised how warm and stuffy it’d been in there. Dean made an ‘after you’ motion with his hand. Castiel followed the instruction but protested even so. 

“You don’t have to walk me home you know. I am perfectly capable.”

“I don’t doubt it man. Just.. let me see you to your door. Indulge me alright?”

Castiel huffed but didn’t argue further. He felt slightly like a toddler having a tantrum but he felt his point stood. He wasn’t a distressed damsel. He could quite easily see himself home without any incident. He could see Dean smirking with amusement from the corner of his eye but instead of teasing him more, he was smart enough to change the subject. 

“Did you have a good time then?”

Castiel gave Dean a small smile. “I have to admit that I’m surprised I did.”

Dean matched Castiel’s smile with his own bigger one. “Good!”

“You know a lot about art.”

“Well, I am kinda of an artist.” 

“You don’t have to be knowledgeable about something to do it. Believe me there are plenty authors who clearly have no idea what they’re writing about.” 

Dean laughed, “Not afraid to tell how it is huh?”

“Most people don’t like my honesty.” Castiel answered solemnly. 

“Nah dude, it’s nice. Makes a change from the usual crap.”

“Good? I think?”

Dean laughed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot. “Yeah Cas, it’s good.”

The rest of the walk home was mostly silent but not awkwardly so. The tension that had been between Dean and Castiel had dissipated into a friendlier camaraderie without Castiel even noticing. 

He turned around to Dean when he reached the door into his apartment. “Thank you Dean. This evening was.. interesting. I had a good time.”

“Me too.” Dean smiled. Castiel matched his smiled hesitantly but it quickly dropped when Dean spoke again. “Tell Balthazar I’ll call him, ok?”

“Sure. Goodnight Dean.” He didn’t even let Dean reply before he shut the door. Stupid Castiel. He completely managed to forget about Balthazar. Dean’s boyfriend. His best friend. 

He was the worst best friend ever. And he was best friend with Balthazar, who could probably win awards for being a lousy friend. Castiel sighed and began to make his way to his bedroom. Perhaps he’d feel better if he slept. Yeah, it’d probably all be much better in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Believe me there are plenty authors who clearly have no idea what they’re writing about."_ Authors like me for example. I know fuck all about art. Could you tell by the way I glossed over that part?


	4. Chapter 4

The bell above the door jangled as Castiel pushed himself through it, hands full with his laptop and notebook. He was hit with a wall of warm air and the soft sweet smell of baked goods. Castiel took a deep breath in and let it out again. Yes, this was good. There was a reason why Gabriel’s cafe was his favourite place. Hopefully, he’d be able to write in here today.

The cafe wasn’t awfully busy so most of the tables were free. Gabriel was standing behind the counter serving a customer but his smile brightened when he saw Castiel. He gave a wave and Castiel nodded his head in acknowledgment before walking over to a seat by the window.

The large windows that ran along the front of the cafe were steamed up with condensation. Outside was raining and cold but inside it was warm, creating a conflict that was evident on the windows. Castiel didn’t mind too much. It meant people couldn’t look in at what he was doing.

He opened the lid of his laptop and booted it up. As Castiel waited for it to load onto his desktop, he flipped through his notebook to the last page he’d written down ideas in. The page was about midday through the book and littered hastily written notes in Castiel’s rushed handwriting.

Most of the ideas were random thoughts that had come to Castiel whilst he was shopping or about to go to sleep. They seem like they could be something of substance at the time but whenever he came to reread them to try and use one for his book they just weren’t up to par. Perhaps some of them could be individual short stories within his little universe he’d created but they never ended up being able to contribute effectively to his narrative. 

He shut the book with a sigh and turned his attentions back to his laptop. His word document was open at where he’d last left it. The word count of 27,538 words teased him as the cursor blinked blankly at him. It had been like that for a month now. He could feel himself start to get worked up as his brain refused to co-operate when required it to produce words.

Sometimes he’d type a few words, never more than a sentence before realising how awful it was and backspacing it all. It almost felt like a physical ailment to Castiel, and there was no cure. Sadly, there was no medicine a doctor could give him to cure writers block.

In fact, Castiel had been so caught up in his turmoil that he didn’t even notice someone approach him until they plunked themselves down in the seat opposite him. He glanced up expecting it to be Gabriel, who sometimes would take a moment to catch up with Cas when he was delivering Castiel’s cup of tea. Instead, Castiel was met with the smiling face of Dean Winchester.

“Hey Cas – You mind if I sit here?”

“Go ahead.” Castiel replied, somewhat dumbly.

“Thanks man. So what are you up to?” Dean asked as he took a sketchpad out of his bag along with some pencils and an eraser. 

“Writing. Or trying to at the very least.”

“Not going so well?”

“No.” Castiel replied grimly. 

“Well I’m not a writer,” Dean began. His fingers were fiddling with the corner of his sketchpad. Castiel found himself slightly hypnotized by the motion. “But if I ever get stuck on a piece, I take a break-“

“I can’t take a break,” Castiel interrupted. “I have a deadline I have to meet. I need to be working on it as much as possible.”

Dean chuckled. “If you’d let me finish my sentence, I was gonna say, take an hour or something and work on something else. I feel guilty if I’m not working on a commissioned piece, and I usually have deadline to meet with those too so I understand your worry, but I can never force it if I’m blocked. I find it easier to work on something else, like a random sketch of something or a doodle. Usually it helps me get a better focus and perspective on things.”

“But I’m not an artist,” Castiel pointed out, “I can’t ‘do a sketch’.” 

“No,” agreed Dean, “but you can write a short story or a character study. Pick a person in this room and write their life story. Doesn’t have to be true, but it’ll help exercise your mind muscles.”

“Mind muscles?” Castiel repeated doubtfully.

“Shut up, I’m trying to help.”

Castiel allowed a small smile at that before another thought occurred to him. “Is that why you’re here then? To draw some people? Because you’re blocked too?”

“Yeah. That and-“

“Hey fellas.”

Castiel jumped and looked over at the interruption. Gabriel was stood at the side of the table, one drink in both hands. 

“Cup of tea for little brother,” Gabriel said as he placed the cup down, “and white coffee for the pretty boy.” He wiped his hands on overall before waggling his eyebrows at Castiel. “So who’s the guy?”

Castiel straightened up and gestured between Gabriel and Dean. “Dean, this is Gabriel, my brother. Gabriel, this is Dean, Balthazar’s boyfriend.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows hiked up. Castiel didn’t like the look in his brother’s eyes one bit. Dean put his hand out for Gabriel to shake, which he did with a smirk. 

“Balthazar’s boyfriend, huh? You sure about that?”

“Gabriel!” Castiel snapped. He wasn’t sure what Gabriel was insinuating but whatever it was it couldn’t be good. He shouldn’t have been surprised Gabriel would try and start something with his friends. “Don’t you have some customers to serve?”

Gabriel’s lips quirked before he nodded his head slowly. “Sure. Have fun you crazy kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. I’ll be behind the counter if you need anything else. Nice meeting you Dean.”

Dean nodded in agreement, clearly uncomfortable but too well raised to outright say anything. “Sure man.”

Gabriel disappeared back to the register and Castiel let out a long sigh. Before he had the opportunity to say anything Dean leaned over the table, so close to Castiel that he could feel Dean’s breath on his face. His voice was hushed as he spoke. “Dude, your brother is a dick.”

“I can only apologise for his behaviour.” Castiel replied, flushing a little.

“You shouldn’t have to.” Dean pulled back and picked up his mug of coffee, steaming rolling off it in tendrils. “Try growing up with that. Is he always like that?”

“No, he’s not normally that bad. He’s quick to make opinions about people though and can be quite.. vocal about it.”

“So he doesn’t like me?” Dean leaned back in chair and took a sip of his drink. He paused and looked down at his coffee. “Huh. Say what you want about the man, he makes a mean cup of joe.”

Castiel gave a wry smile. “Did you make sure it wasn’t poisoned first?”

“He gave me my drink before I opened my mouth so I think we’re good. Besides, he wouldn’t do that would he?” Dean scoffed.

Castiel silently sipped his tea with a smile.

“No, no way..” Dean’s stature deflated a little. “You’re having me on Cas.”

“I’ll put it this way. Gabriel just mildly dislikes you, for whatever reason. You should see what he does to the people he _really_ doesn’t like.”

“Why? What happens?”

Castiel shuddered, memories of his childhood suddenly coming back to him. “Believe me, you really don’t want to know.”

“Sounds ominous.” Dean commented, swapping his coffee to pick up his sketch book and a pencil. 

Castiel watched with interest as Dean flicked to a new page and began to sketch, his pencil dragging lightly against the paper. “It is supposed to. Whilst we were growing up we had more visits to the A&E than I can count. He put a couple of kids in the hospital too, me included once or twice.”

Dean looked up at Castiel, his eyebrow raised. “Seriously?”

Castiel shrugged, before tapping a button on his laptop, turning the sleep screen back to the normal one. He clicked off the document his novel was on and opened a new one and began to type. “He never meant any harm. Not to me anyway. Usually I’d just get caught up in a prank gone wrong.”

“Still. That’s pretty crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for pranking little brothers but damn, I don’t think I ever put Sammy through anything like that.”

The conversation slowly died out as the two started to concentrate on their separate projects. Castiel didn’t know what or who Dean was sketching but Castiel wrote a few thousand words in that hour about a green eyed hero facing down ultimate evil and coming out on top, victorious. 

It felt so liberating just to write something, to get so lost in a story again that he almost didn’t notice the looks Gabriel was sending his way every once in a while. 

His story, whilst it would never probably see the light of day felt like an accomplishment. It proved that he could still write, that whatever he had before, wasn’t just a fluke. It felt like a success. A small success, but an important one nonetheless. 

Castiel decided to take the bus back home that evening instead of walking. Before he had to signal for his stop he managed to scribble down five pages of words in his dog eared notebook. It was like something in Castiel had finally clicked after months of trying, and it was all thanks to Dean Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay for this chapter - I've had a lot of stuff in real life going on which obviously has to come first. I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you though that I will only write when I can and when I feel like it. This fic doesn't have a schedule for posting so please don't pressure me, I'm trying the best I can as it is. That being said, I hope you enjoyed this last chapter and stick around for future chapters and let me know in the comments what you have enjoyed so far! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Gabriel turned up at Castiel and Balthazar’s apartment the next evening, whilst Balthazar was out with Dean, with Indian takeout in hand. 

Castiel didn’t have much option as soon as he opened the door, Gabriel barged his way in and strutted around the place like he owned it. He watched on in bafflement from the kitchen door as Gabriel opened every cupboard looking for cutlery and dishes, the bag of food discarded on the table whilst he searched.

“Gabriel?”

“Yes Cassie?” Gabriel replied distractedly, shutting the cupboard with a ‘thunk’ after obviously not finding what he was looking for.

“What are you doing?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and smirked at him, before moving onto the next cupboard. “Why, looking for the plates of course. What does it look like I’m doing? Searching for the door to Narnia? Well, I highly doubt it’s in your kitchen cupboard Castiel. Writers always have such overactive imaginations.”

“ _Gabriel_.” Castiel gritted out, his patience wearing thin at his older brother’s antics. Honestly, he was just tired and wanted to go to bed but the unplanned intrusion of Gabriel meant that was no longer possible.

“Fine, fine,” Gabriel replied sarcastically, as if Castiel was being the unreasonable one, and not the one that just barged into his home. “Damn Cassie, so touchy. I brought us food. After seeing you yesterday I realised it’s been a while since we hung out together outside of the cafe. Have you been avoiding me?”

Castiel sighed tiredly and stepped into the room, pushing Gabriel gently away from the cupboards and the chaos he was causing and going to the right cupboard to get the plates out. “No, I’m not avoiding you Gabriel. I’m just.. busy.”

Gabriel perched himself up on the kitchen table, watching Castiel deposit the plates before searching for some forks. “Ah yes, Mr Famous Author. You so have to be my wingman. All you’d need to do is introduce yourself and bam, I’d have a date. So how’s the writing going?”

Castiel bumped the cutlery drawer shut with his hips and placed the forks onto the table. “Gabriel, get down for the table. I have to eat there.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes but hopped down from the table, and turned onto his front side to lean against it and watch Castiel dish up the takeout from the boxes onto the plates. “You should be grateful that your table was blessed by something as magical and holy as my ass. Besides, if I hadn’t have turned up with food, would you have eaten tonight?”

Castiel silently sniffed the contents of the takeout to figure out whose food was supposed to be whose. 

Gabriel wagged a finger at him. “Exactly. So, you’re welcome for saving you from a long, horrific, sugarless death. And don’t think I don’t notice you’re avoiding answering my question.”

Castiel placed down the container with a frustrated sigh, unable to identify the contents of the box. Gabriel nudged him out of the way, effectively making them swap places whilst he served up the food.

“It’s going.. better.” Castiel replied hesitantly.

“Better?” Gabriel asked absently, sticking his finger in one of the empty boxes to wipe out some of the leftover sauce. He stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked it away much to Castiel’s disgust. 

“It had been slow to start with.”

“And when you say slow?” prompted Gabriel, sliding Castiel’s plate across the table before taking a seat on one of the chairs and digging into his mountain of rice and various sauced meats. 

Castiel picked up a fork and poked his food. Vindaloo curry and rice: his favourite. Castiel had the strange ability of barely being able to taste even the spiciest of foods. Gabriel enjoyed finding new spices and chili’s for Castiel to try, to see if he could get him to sweat. 

“I mean.. non-existent for a while. Just staring at my laptop for weeks unable to write anything.” Castiel confessed, unable to meet Gabriel’s eyes.

“Blocked?” Gabriel winced with sympathy, apparently realising that this was one of the few times he couldn’t be an asshole. “You looked pretty busy in the cafe yesterday though.”

“I was just doing a writing exercise to try and shift the block and you know what? It worked. When I got home I wrote two chapters. I’ve been writing all day today too.” 

“That’s great Cassie.” Gabriel encouraged through a full mouth, a little bit of half-eaten rice flying across the table. He was practically middle-aged and he was still eating like a child. Some things never changed.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed with a small smile. “I don’t believe in it because it would be illogical but I find myself feeling scared that I’m going to ‘jinx’ it.” 

“Pppssshhh,” Gabriel waved away Castiel’s doubts with his fork. “You’re not gonna jinx it. You just need to go where the story takes you.”

Castiel stared at Gabriel, not quite sure if his brother was being serious or not. It was often quite hard to tell. “Are making a joke?”

Gabriel, for his part, looked quite affronted by the question. “No? I’m legitimately trying to give you advice, big brother to little brother.”

“Please stop.” Castiel winced. “You clearly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fine, fine. Clearly you know better than your older brother.” Gabriel replied sarcastically. There was a beat of awkward silence whilst they both ate a forkful before Gabriel narrowed his eyes and spoke again. “If you don’t want me to talk about that then how about we talk about you and Dean?”

Castiel stopped chewing and looked up at Gabriel. “Dean and I? What about us?”

“Well,” Gabriel dragged out vowel and leaned in closer to Castiel, as if he were about to exchange a secret. “You two were looking mighty cosy yesterday.”

Castiel was thankful that he had swallowed the last bite because otherwise he would have chocked on his food in surprise. He set down his fork and stared at his brother calmly. “What are you saying Gabriel?”

“I’m saying, what’s going on between you and Dean?”

“Dean is Balthazar’s boyfriend! I would never..” Castiel cut himself off angrily, unwilling to even say it. Despite his protesting, he could feel little bubbles of guilt rise up and lurk under the surface. 

“Well yeah.” Gabriel agreed unfazed by Castiel’s anger, “But does he know that? Because he was giving you some pretty obvious eyeing across the booth. Wouldn’t even be surprised if there was a little footsy action going on.” He stopped and tilted his head as he studied his younger brother. “Wait. Do _you_ know that?”

“Gabriel,” Castiel said lowly, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “I think you should go now.”

“No.” Gabriel challenged him, folding his arms across his chest. “I think we need to talk about this.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel’s voice rose angrily, “You-“

Castiel was cut off as the sound of the front door opened and two chuckling people came in. Castiel stopped talking but he glared silently at his brother as Dean and Balthazar came into the kitchen. Balthazar started in surprise as he saw Gabriel.

“Gabe, darling! It’s been too long.”

“Indeed it has Balthi.” Gabriel agreed with an easy smile. His eyes darted over at Castiel however as he spoke.

“Gabriel was just leaving.” Castiel said coldly, leaving no room for argument.

Gabriel sighed but got up nonetheless. He patted Balthazar on the shoulder and nodded at Dean. “As sad as I am to love you and leave you, I have to share myself with the rest of the world. What can I say? I’m a giving guy.” He lingered at the doorway and gave Castiel one last, very pointed look. “Just think about what I said.” 

Castiel let out a deep sigh as Gabriel disappeared from the kitchen and left the apartment with a click of the front door behind him. He suddenly felt just as tired as he had when Gabriel had originally knocked on his door. And it had been going so well too.

“What was that about?” Balthazar asked, turning to Castiel.

He could feel both Balthazar’s and Dean’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to even look at them after that conversation with Gabriel. The guilt and shame weighted him down like rocks in water. “I’m going to bed. There’s some Indian takeout left over if you two want any. Goodnight.”

With that, he scuttled off to his room. He didn’t fall asleep for a long time after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Jeremy "We have to go where the story takes us" Carver. Fuck you.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	6. Chapter 6

After Gabriel’s visit, Castiel kept to himself for a few days. He felt this overwhelming guilt because he knew his brother was right. He had feelings for his best friend’s boyfriend and he knew how completely wrong it was, and how awful a person he felt because of it.

Gabriel didn’t bother trying to get in contact with Castiel, which he appreciated. Obviously Gabriel had said his piece and that was that, now it was up to Castiel to do what he will with it. The question was though, what did he do with it?

There was no way in hell that he would do _anything_ that would hurt Balthazar, like trying to break up the relationship – especially since Balthazar for once was actually interested in having a _relationship_. 

Besides whatever Gabriel thought he saw with Dean couldn’t possibly be right anyway. Dean’s an artist: if he was looking at Castiel at the cafe, it was probably because he was drawing him.

No, the only thing that Castiel could do was ignore it and pray that it would go away. It was really the only thing he could do. 

Balthazar had tried to coax out of Castiel what had happened between Gabriel and himself, but Castiel wouldn’t talk. In truth, he was still having a hard time even looking at his friend, the shame of his feelings crushing down upon him each time that he looked at his earnest expression.

Eventually Balthazar realised that Castiel was not going to spill but still needed him. He ended up calling up his manager and asked for a few days off, claiming over the phone in a nasally voice that he was struck down by “a really bad cold.”

He made Castiel cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows and wrapped him in layers and blankets and held him tight whilst they binge watched Netflix. It was a lot like the ‘old days’ when they were younger. He found it more comforting than he could possibly express.

Balthazar had been a good kid. Once upon a time they’d be so close, almost as close as brothers. They had done everything together: Balthazar had beaten up Castiel’s bullies before Castiel could learn to handle them, and then even after that. They’d had their first kiss, lost their virginity, graduated from high school and after would always run to tell the other. 

Balthazar had told him it was alright when Castiel had told him he was gay and Castiel held Balthazar through his tears the night that Balthazar’s parents had died. They were familiar and as comfortable as old pyjamas: worn and aged, but still good. It wasn’t just ‘Castiel and Balthazar’, it was Castiel-and-Balthazar. 

They weren’t broken, but more often than not these days, Castiel felt like he was the minute hand on the clock whilst Balthazar rushed past counting off the seconds. Their lives ran in different paths, which was understandable – things grew and changed. But it was small moments like this one that reminded Castiel of close they were once, and that yes, things changed, but other things, not so much. 

Balthazar’s friendship was one of the most valuable things that Castiel possessed. He resolved as he watched over the man who had fallen asleep on his shoulder halfway through a ‘Sense 8’ binge, that he wouldn’t do anything. He would take a step back from everything, try and avoid Dean. If he ignored him, then those feelings might go away. Those years of friendship were worth far more to Castiel than the possibility of a romantic endeavour that might not even work out anyway, and a life-long friendship in tatters.

Gabriel was right. And nothing could be worth the pain that he might bring to one of the people he cared about most in the world. 

With the decision made, Castiel rested his head atop of Balthazar’s, and closed his eyes, willing for sleep to come and a new day to rise.

 

*****

 

Staying away from Dean was a lot easier said than done. Now that Castiel had decided to keep his distance it was like he was everywhere all the time.

Castiel couldn’t go to the cafe without bumping to either Dean or Gabriel. He was stuck and going out of his mind from the confinement when he knew that really, he should make it up with Gabriel since he was right, but he couldn’t risk bumping into Dean there.

But that turned out to be futile since Dean spent a lot of time in the house with Balthazar, eating in the kitchen or mooching in the living room. Castiel would enter a room before hastily back tracking out and fleeing to his room. It got to the point where he just stayed in his room until he knew for certain that the coast was clear. 

It meant that he came out of his room even less often than usual, which he wouldn’t have minded but he had been cursed with writers block once again – probably from the stress of everything. 

Sometimes Castiel failed in successfully avoiding Dean. Dean would see him and perk up and say ‘Hey Cas’ but Cas would panic and leg it out of there without a word. The look on Dean’s face when he did that was the most heartbreaking thing but Castiel knew it was for the better.

 

*****

 

After about a week of guerrilla tactics, Dean eventually cornered him in the apartment’s main hallway. Castiel had just made himself a sandwich and was heading back to his bedroom when Dean appeared out of nowhere and blocked Cas’ way.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, startled enough that he nearly dropped the plate his sandwich was on. 

“Hey Cas,” Dean replied, his face completely unreadable. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“No,” Castiel agreed, “I’ve been busy.”

Dean nodded his head slowly, as if he was mulling over the information. “Busy, huh?”

“Yes,” replied Castiel hastily. He fidgeted awkwardly, trying to plan a manoeuvre to escape Dean’s blockade. “Which I still am, so if you don’t mind..”

He tried to go around Dean but Dean just mirrored his movements, leaving Cas unable to flee the conversation. Castiel stopped moving, realising that Dean wasn’t going to give up. 

“What do you want Dean?” Castiel asked. He was straightforward and to the point. The quicker he could get Dean to get whatever it was he needed to get off of his chest, the quicker he could get away and stop thinking of green eyes and freckles.

Dean looked down, almost shyly before glancing up again. He seemed hesitant to ask whatever it was, like he hadn’t planned that far ahead in the conversation. Ultimately he must have plucked up the courage because he spoke. “Have I done something to.. I don’t know. Make you mad at me?”

“No.” Castiel denied. He was starting to panic. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. “I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” 

He pushed past Dean, ignoring his calls of ‘Cas?’ and practically ran to his room. He leaned against the closed door with a sigh. This whole ‘avoidance’ thing was so much harder than Castiel could have ever imagined. Castiel leaned his head back against the door with a quiet ‘thwunk’. 

Why did the right thing have to hurt so much?


	7. Chapter 7

Another week passed by with Castiel successfully avoiding Dean. Castiel was awoken on the morning of his birthday by Balthazar charging into his room wearing a party hat, a hot pink feather boa and party horn being blown in his ear, and jumping on top of him whilst he was still in bed.

 

He wished he could say that was the worst way Balthazar had ever woken him up on his birthday but in actual honesty it was one of the milder ones. Castiel supposed it was a reflection of their age. They certainly weren’t in college anymore.

 

Balthazar dragged Castiel out of bed and led him into the kitchen where balloons littered the floor and surfaces carelessly, and deposited him on a chair by the table. Sitting on the table was some mail, probably birthday cards Castiel noted, and a wrapped gift, obviously from Balthazar. It was crudely wrapped and obviously the shape of a bottle. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was.

 

“Happy birthday darling,” Balthazar said with a grin, “Now sit there and look pretty, maybe open your cards? And I’ll make you breakfast.”

 

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Castiel asked dryly.

 

“Hush now love, it’s your birthday. Besides, I’m not that bad of a cook.”

 

Castiel smiled but didn’t say anything. Honestly, it was nice to have someone make him breakfast for once. Following Balthazar’s advice, Castiel unwrapped his present from him, carefully peeling away the wrapping paper to reveal a bottle of alcohol. Naturally. Castiel thanked Balthazar before moving onto the cards.

 

There was one from his agent, another from Meg at the cafe. Of course there was one from Balthazar with a caption that made Castiel blush slightly, and two from some old college friends that he had kept in contact with over the years via email. It was a small affair but Castiel was happy with the way it was.

 

At the bottom of the pile was card addressed simply to ‘Castiel’, no address or stamp on it. Castiel recognised the writing as his brother’s. He glanced up at Balthazar who was watching him from the cooker.

 

“He stopped by earlier this morning and posted it through the letterbox.” Balthazar explained. “Are you two still fighting?”

 

Castiel sighed. “We’re not fighting. We just had a disagreement.”

 

Balthazar nodded. He clearly wanted to know what about, but Castiel still hadn’t told him and he wasn’t inclined to at any time. 

 

Castiel opened the card anxiously, reading the messy handwriting that was so unique to Gabriel and hadn’t changed since Castiel was eight years old.

 

_ Dear Cassie, _

_ Congrats on making it this far in age and defeating all the things the world is trying to do to kill us prematurely. Remember that I’ll always be there to help you fight those trials.  _

_ Lots of love, your fav big bro, Gabriel  _

 

Castiel smiled. It was just a subtle quirk of the lips but it was a smile nonetheless. It wasn’t an apology exactly, but it was close as Gabriel would get to making one. Castiel appreciated the sentiment either way and was relieved that Gabriel had extended the figurative olive branch. Castiel valued his relationship with Gabriel immensely since he was the only family he was in contact with.

 

Castiel set down the card next to the bottle from Balthazar just as Balthazar set down a plate of cooked eggs and bacon and took a seat opposite him. 

 

“Having a good birthday so far?” He asked.

 

Castiel nodded, looking at the cards from the people he cared about and the breakfast in front of him made by one of the people he held dearest in the world. He felt truly content.

 

“Yes. Yes, I am.” 

 

*****

 

In hindsight Castiel should have seen it coming. Balthazar dragging him out of the house and spending all day out should’ve been suspicious. But Castiel had been utterly clueless when Balthazar opened their apartment door at 6pm that evening to let them in, to be greeted by the lights turning on and a chorus of ‘surprise!’ 

 

Castiel blinked at them in surprise before turning and looking at Balthazar with wide eyes. “You knew?”   
  


“Who do you think arranged it?” Balthazar laughed, “Darling, I’m an  _ actor _ . I don’t know why you’re so surprised that I could keep it from you.”

 

Castiel looked back at his guests as Balthazar walked into the room and put his iPod on the dock on the counter and put some music on. Familiar faces smiled back at him or laughing with each other: Gabriel, Meg, Sam and his girlfriend, Sarah.  _ Dean _ .

 

Castiel approached the group, taking his coat off and hanging on the back of a chair. Gabriel smiled at him as he grew nearer and as soon he was within close enough range, he enveloped Castiel into a bear hug.

 

“I didn’t mean to piss you off little bro,” Gabriel said quietly into Castiel’s ear, “You know me - no tact. Happy birthday Cassie.”

 

Castiel pulled back from the hug and smiled at him. “Consider it forgotten. Thank you Gabriel.”

 

A cheer rose from the rest of the group, breaking Castiel and Gabriel’s reconciliation as Balthazar came through from the kitchen with bottles of drink in either hand. 

 

“Let’s celebrate Cassie’s birthday properly!” He announced. He took the top off of one and handed it out to the nearest person who, incidentally, was Dean. “Let’s get this party started.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes at the cliche but accepted the drink that was given to him nonetheless, with an amused smile. 

 

*****

 

Castiel was taking a moment to himself in the kitchen whilst everyone else enjoyed themselves in the lounge. He was also enjoying the little party that Balthazar had put together but that amount of socialisation after a while was exhausting, especially since Castiel wasn’t used to it.

 

He wasn’t as bad as he might’ve been though. From what Castiel could tell he was a bit tipsy, possibly veering into drunk territory, leaving his inhibitions a bit more open than when he was sober. 

 

Castiel was relishing in the peace when someone else slipped into the kitchen. He opened his eyes to see Dean lingering at the door, watching him. “Dean.” He said without even thinking.

 

“Hey Cas.” Dean replied, stepping into the room towards him. His speech was slightly slurred and his eyes, usually bright and clear like a forest on a spring day, were glassy and unfocused. Apparently was also on the same page of soberness (or rather not) as Castiel was. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Happy birthday.”

 

Castiel nodded his head in acknowledgement, finding it hard to meet Dean’s eyes. “Thank you.”

 

“You look like you were having fun out there. It was nice to see you smile.” Dean commented, taking a step closer. 

  
Dean and Castiel hadn’t spoken yet that night until then, but Castiel had felt the burn of Dean’s gaze on him continually. 

 

“Yes, I was.” Castiel replied distractedly, suddenly aware of how close Dean had gotten. They were practically breathing each other's air and Castiel couldn’t help but inhale the smell that was so unique to Dean: pine, paint, motor oil and a hint of alcohol. It was intoxicating.

 

It felt like the naturalist thing in the world when Dean began to lean down, for Castiel to lean into him, for their lips to meet in a kiss at long last. 

 

Fireworks didn’t go off, angels didn’t sing, nothing like that. But it felt right. So completely right, that Castiel wondered how he could ever think of it as being wrong. It felt like something had clicked inside him, something that he didn’t even know was there. He felt like he was living every romance cliche he had ever written and he didn’t care in the slightest.

 

But then it struck him what he was doing: kissing his best friends boyfriend. No, he would not do that to Balthazar. He would not be the reason for any hurt that could come to his friend. 

 

Castiel pushed Dean away, despite how much it hurt for him to do so. He shook his head. “No, we can’t do this. We’re drunk.. and Balthazar. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

 

He rushed out from the kitchen, leaving Dean behind. Caught up in his thoughts and with the room slightly spinning, he bumped into Gabriel.

 

“Whoa, big guy, where’s the fire?” Gabriel joked. He paused and took a long, hard look at his brother, clearing sensing something was off. “Castiel, what’s wrong?”

 

Castiel took a deep breath. He felt like he was wearing shame on him, sticking to every part of his skin. 

  
“Dean kissed me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this - I haven't felt motivated to write. But thanks for sticking with me!


	8. Chapter 8

By some miracle, Castiel managed to persuade Gabriel from leaping into the kitchen and ripping off Dean’s arms and whacking him to death with them. Instead, he managed to get Gabriel to promise not tell anyone about what had just happened and to tell everyone that Castiel wasn’t feeling very well whilst Cas went and hid in his room. 

 

No doubt Gabriel burned holes in the side of Dean’s face for the rest of the party but Castiel didn’t hear anyone get brutally murdered in his lounge so it seemed like a win-win.

 

Eventually Castiel heard everyone leave, one by one. No-one popped their head through the door to say goodbye which Castiel appreciated - they probably thought he was asleep. 

 

Balthazar shouted through the door as he went to bed but Castiel didn’t reply. He couldn’t. His phone kept buzzing, presumably Dean and Gabriel, Castiel just ignored it until he eventually just turned it off.

 

He felt like the worst human being in the world.

 

He didn’t sleep a wink that night.

  
  


*

 

Balthazar was stood at the door sympathetically watching Castiel, who was completely cocooned in his duvet and looking utterly pathetic. “Oh darling, just look at you.”

 

He closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed next to Castiel, poking at the duvet until Castiel unwrapped some of it from him so that Balthazar could wrap it around his shoulders and snuggle into Castiel’s side. 

 

“Look at the state you’re in Cassie.”

 

“I’m so sorry Balthazar.” Castiel began, his brow furrowed in distress and his blue eyes clouding with unshed tears. “Dean and I - we kissed last night. I know he’s your boyfriend so I pushed him away but I am so sorry. Balthazar, you are my closest friend, family even, and I value that more than anything. I don’t expect you to forgive me but I can only beg for it.”

 

“Never in a billion years did I ever expect you to give me the ‘I kissed your boyfriend’ speech. If I’m being perfectly honest, I always expected I’d have to give it to you.” Balthazar remarked.

 

Castiel watched him suspiciously, almost expecting Balthazar’s calmness to be a trap of some sort. “Why aren’t you mad?”

 

“Darling,  _ I know _ .” Balthazar replied, taking Castiel’s hand beneath the duvet and squeezing it with his. “Dean called me this morning in a right old state, and not for the reasons you’d think.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“We broke up Castiel.” Balthazar said plainly, before holding up his free hand to halt Castiel from saying anything. “And it wasn’t because of this, love.” He assured him, “We broke up two days ago.  _ Before  _ your party. Don’t worry, you’re not a homewrecker.”

 

“But you never told me?” 

 

“No, I didn’t.” Balthazar replied. “I didn’t want to spoil your birthday by dumping my break up drama all over you. It was your special day.”

 

"I thought you liked him. I thought he was different." Castiel said, trying to process at the new information he was being given. 

 

"I did. He is. Was. I don't know Cassie.” Balthazar sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, that is one damn fine man and we had fun but it’s sort have hard to have a relationship when the other person is in love with someone else.”

 

Castiel turned to Balthazar in surprise, his lips parted in a comical ‘o’ shape which would’ve been funny had the situation not been serious.

 

“I just never realised it was  _ you  _ he was in love with. It doesn’t surprise me though - who couldn’t love you? You’re handsome and smart and one of the most wonderful souls I’ve had the good fortune of stumbling upon.”

 

“But.. that can’t be true.” Castiel denied. In the time between the kiss had happened and that moment, Castiel had chalked it all up to Dean being drunk, not because he was attracted to Castiel, let alone reciprocated his feelings. 

 

“I told him that whoever it was, they were a very lucky person,” Balthazar insisted softly, “And that he shouldn’t waste time trying to do ‘the right thing’. I told him to go for it, and it looks like he did.”

 

“But..” The evidence was compelling. Could it be possible that Dean did like him?

 

“You love him too, don’t you?” Balthazar asked.

 

Castiel hesitated before nodding solemnly. He owed Balthazar the truth, and there was no point in denying it when he knew his facial expressions would betray him.

 

"How could I not have noticed my best friend hurting so badly? I've been incredibly selfish haven't I?" 

 

"A little." Castiel teased weakly. "But then again, so have I."

 

"Why do you put up with me?"

 

"Because you're my best friend, and I love you, you assbutt." Castiel retorted, releasing Balthazar’s hand in exchange for putting his arm around him and bringing him into a half hug. “I’m sorry Balthazar.”

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?” He replied with a sad smile, “Besides, there’s someone out there for me, isn’t there? And when I find them, it’ll be spectacular.”

 

“It will be.” Castiel promised, “You deserve so much happiness.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t go quite that far.” Balthazar joked sardonically, raising a small smile from Castiel.

 

“I would.” 

 

“That’s because you are an angel, darling.”

 

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Castiel asked, feeling like a child asking for his parents’ permission.

 

“Go get him tiger.” Balthazar replied seriously, before cracking a grin. “Though perhaps after you’ve showered? You don’t look very attractive right now - hardly ready to bag your dream man.”

 

Castiel stuck out his tongue out childishly and shoved Balthazar, nearly causing him to fall off the bed.

 

“Oh, now it’s war Cassie!” Balthazar exclaimed before tackling Castiel and tickling him. 

 

Between the heaves of breath and giggles, Castiel grinned. It might not go back to normal straight away, but he was certain that everything was going to be alright.

  
  


*

 

Castiel stared at his phone like it would magically give him all the answers. To call Dean or not to call Dean; that was the question. He supposed he should be grateful he wasn’t living Hamlet’s life. If he thought his relationships were complicated then they were nothing in comparison to Hamlet’s relationship to Ophelia. At least neither him or Dean would end up dead in a stream. 

 

Castiel picked his phone up and began to dial Dean’s number. Balthazar’s voice echoed in his head.  _ Just do it _ . It was funny how Balthazar’s voice suddenly sounded like Shia Labeouf’s.  

 

The phone rang and Castiel began to panic. What if Dean didn’t answer? What if he saw Castiel’s ID and ignored it? What if it rang to answer machine? Would Castiel leave a message? What would he say?

 

“Hello?”

 

“Dean.” Castiel sighed in relief that the call had been answered. Then he remembered  _ why  _ he was calling and promptly began to panic again.

 

“Cas? Oh man, am I glad to hear your voice. I’m sorry about what happened last night - I’d had a little bit to drink and I had a whole shitty speech that I was going to tell you but I just saw you there and sort of got away from I guess.” Dean’s speech was rushed, like he was trying to say everything in one go before Castiel hung up on him or something. It was slightly reassuring that Castiel wasn’t the only one that was nervous from this phone call. “Me and Balthazar - we’re not together anymore, I promise. I’m not the perfect guy, I know that but I’d never cheat, I swear-”

 

“I know Dean.” Castiel interrupted, echoing Balthazar’s earlier words. “It’s fine. Everything was explained to me, and besides it’s not like I was completely innocent in everything.”

 

“You weren’t?” His voice was low and surprised.

 

“No Dean.” Castiel blushed as he said the next words. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

 

There was a beat of silence and suddenly Castiel was worried he had said the wrong thing but then Dean spoke again, the grin evident in his voice. Castiel could imagine it on the other end: crinkled green eyes and dimples.

 

“Do you wanna maybe go out on a date with me some time Cas?”

  
“Yes.” Castiel replied, a small smile threatening to become a grin, his heart beating double time. “I think I would like that very much Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was the last chapter! But never fear, and an epilogue is coming your way (hopefully at the end of the week) to round everything off! So stay tuned!


	9. Epilogue

**_ One year later _ **

 

Castiel was lying on the couch of his new apartment. Well, technically it was his and Dean’s apartment since they lived there together but saying ‘mine and Dean’s’ didn’t quite have the same ring.

 

He was on his laptop, hopping between tabs. On one tab he had his email up and was half way through composing an email to his editor. Another tab had cat videos loaded. He found them greatly amusing and had been hinting about getting a cat to Dean for the past few weeks. The last tab was a gossip website, with a brightly coloured headline: ‘ _Who will Balthazar Roche be taking to the Oscars? Here is our shortlisted top ten celebs!’_

 

Castiel smiled. Not long after Castiel’s birthday party, Balthazar’s agent managed to land Balthazar one of the main roles in a small indie film. Surprisingly it became a huge success and was nominated for many awards. Now Balthazar had job offers coming left, right and centre. Castiel had never seen him so happy and career-focused.

 

Dean was on the other side of the lounge, painting on a canvas that Castiel couldn’t see. Though from what he could tell, it appeared to be very colorful judging by all the bright paint covering Dean’s clothes and skin.

 

Castiel was half way through another cat video when the doorbell went. Dean glanced at Castiel, a large grin slowly spreading over his lips. He put down the paintbrush and sprinted towards to door, leaping over one of the coffee tables by the couch in his haste to answer the door.

 

Castiel rolled his eyes in amusement and carried on playing the cat video. He could hear Dean open the door and talk softly to the postman before the door shut and Dean’s voice called out.

 

“It’s here!”

 

Dean’s footsteps were loud as he ran back, nearly making Castiel fall off the sofa in surprise as he vaulted over the back. He shoved Castiel’s legs over so he could sit down before handing over the package. Dean grinned excitedly at him.

 

“Seriously man, I swear, I’m more excited about this than you.”

 

“It’s not a big deal Dean.” Castiel replied, as he peeled open the package and pulled out the contents.

 

“You’re damn right it is a big deal.” Dean argued as Castiel discarded the packaging on the ground. In his hand was a copy of the book he had been struggling through when he’d met Dean.

 

He didn’t really want to make a huge fuss over it, but his breath caught in his throat as he held the first copy of his book as it would be in stores in his hands. His finger traced the cover art, a gorgeous design by Dean. Castiel felt so grateful for everything he had: he was incredibly happy, with a fantastic boyfriend, without whom, he’d never have been able to finish his book. And now it was finally here.

 

“We did good Cas, we did good.”

 

“Yeah,” Castiel agreed smiling. “We did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have come to the end, dear readers. I hope you've enjoyed this story (I'm especially looking at you Erica since I wrote it for you) and thank you for coming along the ride and for sticking with me and my sporadic posting schedule. It's been fun! Thank you to everyone who left me feedback, kudos and subscribed! I couldn't have written this without you.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave kudos and comments, feedback is always appreciated and motivates me to write more! Come and find me on Tumblr at **[Owlwithafringe](http://owlwithafringe.tumblr.com/)** , to see updates on fics and fandom related things.


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